


Overcast

by aritzen



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2018-03-19 14:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3613884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aritzen/pseuds/aritzen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kamui's childhood - what he had, and what he left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overcast

_You brought me_  
_Into a world this bright_  
_It’s too glaring_  
_I can’t see anything_  
_In the light_ __  


 

On his second birthday, Kamui experienced the sun in its blinding and scorching glory for the first time when Umibozu carried him out of the terminal on Planet Ursa Minor Beta. Even though his father’s giant green umbrella shielded him from the deadliest rays overhead, it offered little protection against the glare and the heat from the concrete pavement. With a muffled yelp, he flung his arms around Umibozu’s neck and buried his face in the latter’s shoulder, eliciting a sigh in response.

“I told you he’s too young to handle the sun.”

“Oh, he’ll toughen up,” Umibozu’s wife, Kirin, said with a flick of her wrist. “The first step is always formidable, but you have to take it eventually. He can’t stay confined to that shit hole forever just to avoid the sun. The universe is a big place, and some day he’ll soar without you and me. Besides, we’re going to the indoor beach. He’ll be fine.”

“Says the one who’s wearing sunglasses and sunscreen. You can’t handle the sun either, can you?”

“Shut up, old man. I didn’t choose to be born Yato. You don’t understand how difficult it is to love sunbathing and be a Yato at the same time. Alright, Papi,” Kirin said as she balanced her yellow umbrella on her shoulder and reached for Kamui, who had adapted to the bright surroundings and was watching his parents with round eyes. “You can bring our suitcases to the hotel and then serve us some local cuisine while Mami and Son chill out on the beach.”

“What?” Umibozu exclaimed. “Why am I doing all the work?”

“It’s the men who bring home the bacon, or so the idiom goes.”

“I don’t think you’re using that correctly!”

“Papi,” Kamui interrupted, his face lighting up. “Bacon.”

Umibozu blinked while Kirin pulled Kamui into a tight embrace and nuzzled the toddler’s cheek with a victorious grin on her face. “This is my son! He understands me perfect—” Her voice cut off when Kamui curled his small fingers around the strand of red hair jutting out of her head. “Damn brat!” Kirin shouted, grabbing Kamui’s strand of hair in return. “I told you not to touch the antenna. I’ll pluck yours out!”

Kamui beamed, as though his mother had only made a funny face at him, and Kirin’s outburst died as quickly as it had flared. She perched her sunglasses on her head to meet Kamui’s blue eyes, her expression shifting from wonder to gentleness and finally to glee. Her cheeks flushed as she shoved Kamui like a prized teddy bear into the face of the nearest passerby and squealed in delight, “Isn’t he cute? This is my son! He’s adorable, isn’t he?”

The unfortunate victim, a five-foot tall protozoan, paused, perhaps with a single-cell organism equivalent of a blank stare, and slithered away without a word.

Seizing Kirin’s collar before she could harass someone else or—heaven forbid—accidentally fling their son into the blazing sunlight, Umibozu heaved a sigh and remarked, “It always amazes me when you’re like that, considering how you almost didn’t want to keep the baby in the beginning. Now you’ve completely fallen in love.”

Kirin halted her footsteps, the ocean breeze tousling her shoulder-length hair, and she turned to her husband with toothy grin, simple and genuine.

 

In a city that was always gray and always raining, a house trembled as it reacted to what sounded like rabid grand pianos stampeding down the stairs. Sighing inwardly, Kirin peeled an orange and popped it into her mouth, the same moment at which Kamui charged into the living room and pounced on her back, locking his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist.

“I win!”

“Kamui,” Kirin said patiently around a mouthful of orange. “I heard you.”

“Ehh?” Kamui protested. “But you didn’t duck.”

“But you were running like a herd of elephants,” Kirin said, mimicking his whiny tone, and unwrapped his legs from her stomach before picking up another orange. “Do you remember how a cat catches a mouse? It creeps up on the mouse. Slowly. Quietly. And then it jumps. So fast that the mouse doesn’t know what hit him. Get it?”

Kamui scrunched his nose and made a thoughtful sound, breaking into a smile when his mother delivered half an orange to his mouth. “Cat,” he reiterated, one side of his cheek bulging with the fruit, and raced out of the room, sending the roof and windows rattling again.

Kirin stared after him, bemused, and rested her chin on her palm. “Did you really get it?” she murmured, biting into the remaining half of the orange, and listened to the fading footsteps.

To her pleasant surprise, the house soon fell silent except for the incessant battering of rain. She stretched out her legs on the floor and draped her arms over the low table, wiggling her toes and letting her gaze roam around the room as she contemplated the doctor’s words from a few hours ago.

“If it’s a girl, she’ll be named Kagura,” Kirin mumbled to herself. “If it’s another boy...”

A slight motion in the window reflection caught her eye, and she stilled, struggling to stifle a snicker as she watched Kamui’s antenna extend from behind the door, followed by the top of his head and part of his face as he peeked around the frame. When he decided that his mother had yet to notice him, he crawled into the room on all fours, lifting his limbs one at a time in a manner that was stealth but somehow dramatic at the same time. At the midway point between the two of them, he positioned himself into a crouch, and then like a cat, wriggled his butt before he leaped forward.

Kirin snorted, unable to contain her laughter any longer, and turned around, shouting, “Are you an idiot? You don’t—whoa!” She caught Kamui in her arms and rocked backward to absorb the impact, knocking into the table.

“Do I win?” Kamui asked, his eyes wide with doubt and bewilderment. “Why are you laughing, Mami?”

“You don’t—” Snort, hack. “—have to take it—” Snicker. “—so literally.”

“What’s little-ly?”

Umibozu’s voice came from the door. “What are you two doing?”

Kirin paused to catch her breath as the last of her chuckles faded away. “Playing a game,” she replied, setting Kamui on the floor and getting to her feet. She froze with one knee still on the ground when she spotted the person standing beside Umibozu. “Wow, what a rare guest,” she remarked, smiling politely as she stood up and smoothed her dress. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you a busy man nowadays, Hosen? Or did you run away from the fight for the king’s position?”

“Your tongue is still so sharp,” said Hosen. He glanced at Kamui, who had fixed his blue eyes on the tall Yato as if pure observation alone would inform him of the stranger’s identity. “The king’s successor can always make time for a friendly visit to his kohai’s place. This is the first time I’ve seen you since you left to get married. You didn’t even come to our teacher’s funeral.”

“As if you went,” Kirin muttered. “Unlike you, I’m a busy, busy woman,” she added airily.

“Busy looking after a lovely son, no doubt.”

“My son is very cute, isn’t he?” Kirin said with a cheeky grin.

Umibozu harrumphed as he placed a kettle of water on the stove and flipped the switch. “Cut to the chase, Hosen. Why are you here?”

“Hmph, I’m here to foster good relations. Kirin and I shared a teacher, so we’re almost like brother and sister. Your son has reached an age where he deserves a master of his own. I’ll be honored to take him as my student. It’ll also be beneficial for him to train under the King of Yato, don’t you think?”

“Thank you for your kind thoughts, Hosen,” said Umibozu. “Since Kirin and you shared a teacher, it’ll be no different if she taught Kamui herself. In fact, she’ll be able to provide her undivided attention—”

“I’ll think about it,” Kirin interjected, not looking at anyone in the room, staring instead at a crooked smiley face that Kamui had doodled on the wall with a purple crayon.

Hosen chuckled. “Kirin knows what I’m talking about.”

“Kirin,” Umibozu started.

“I said, I’ll think about it,” Kirin repeated, her voice hard and expression closed.

 

According to a Yato legend, there used to be ten suns in the sky, each corresponding to a different god. These gods feasted every day while they pitched the people against each other and wagered bets on the last man standing. What they did not expect was the victor, the strongest Yato, to turn around after the final battle and crush them as well. As the tenth god was killed, he cursed the Yato as a species to never be able to walk under the sun again and banished the world to eternal night.

“Mami,” Kamui said quietly, nestled in Kirin’s lap, holding a picture book in one hand while rubbing his eye with the other. “Why do you like the sun?”

Another version of the legend stated that the tenth god was not a sun but the moon. When it died, it took night with it, leaving only dark rain clouds behind like a gray veil forever concealing a beautiful sky filled with starlight. There was no more day, no more night—only despair.

A distant expression settled over Kirin’s face, followed by a faint smile. “It’s not that I like the sun,” she responded. “I just like bright colors. Like orange lilies and the blue sky. Like your hair and your eyes. Like how life should be.” She smiled when she noticed Kamui’s head drooping slightly as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “You’re still young,” she said, taking the book from his hands and placing it on the table. “But maybe one day you’ll understand why I want to leave this place, and why I keep coming back. Be stronger than Mami, okay?”

Kamui didn’t respond, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and steady.

Sensing Umibozu’s presence, Kirin looked behind her left shoulder, where she found her husband standing in the doorway and watching, nothing in his countenance betraying what he was thinking. “Thank you for doing the dishes,” she said softly.

“About Hosen...”

“Before we talk about Hosen, I have something I want to announce,” said Kirin. “I’m pregnant, so we need to clear out some space in the house and reassemble Kamui’s old crib at some point. Maybe do some baby shopping too.”

“Oh okay—wait, what?”

“And that’s why I think it’d be a good idea for Kamui to train under Hosen,” Kirin continued. “If my second pregnancy is anything like my first, I’ll be grumpy, impatient, and short-tempered most of the time. Not to mention the mood-swings.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Will you let me finish?” she snapped but immediately clamped a hand over her mouth and glanced at the sleeping child in her arms. Kamui stirred but did not otherwise wake up. “Anyway,” she whispered. “The point is that I won’t be able to train him, especially not in the next year or so.”

“Then do it later,” said Umibozu. “Delaying it by a year isn’t so bad. Kids these days grow up too fast. Do you know how disturbing it is for ten-year-olds to have boyfriends or girlfriends? Or worse? It’d be good to slow our children down a bit.”

“It’s not just that,” Kirin said, brushing Kamui’s bangs out of his face. Her voice was low when she spoke again, as if it could mask the uncertainty and the dread. “I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can fight him seriously. To be honest, I don’t want him to grow up knowing how to fight. I understand that it’s also a form of protection, but the fact that he needs to know how to protect himself...” She took a deep breath in an attempt to alleviate her own fears. “Hosen is one of the strongest and most powerful Yato around, and I know he’ll take it seriously. The great Umibozu’s son is going to be his student, after all.”

“Then let me do it.”

Kirin gave Umibozu a long, trenchant stare. “I know you, Umibozu. And I know Hosen. Each of you have your own strengths and weaknesses. When it comes to our son, I’m actually more afraid of you than I am of Hosen.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means,” she said simply and cast her eyes on the falling rain outside. “It’ll be fine. I promise.”

 

Taking a sudden kick to the solar plexus, Kamui discovered, left his mind momentarily blank and his body curled up into a ball on the ground, defenseless and unable to breathe. He clutched his stomach and sputtered, the rain blurring his vision as he squinted at the approaching figure.

_We Yato take pride in our strength and power. The gods may have abandoned us in a desolate world, turning a blind eye to our sufferings, but in doing so, they have forced us to fight for ourselves. We rely on no one, and only the strongest survives, whether it’s parent or child, teacher or student, friend or foe._

“Kamui,” Hosen said and stopped in front of the child, his tone marked with disapproval. “You completely got the wind knocked out of you. We talked about it earlier—before you’re hit, breathe out fast to tense your abdominal muscles. You don’t have time to recover from any shock. In the split second you were down, I could’ve had your head. Stand up. Don’t think about the pain; it’s all in your mind. Or is it too much for you already and you want to go home to your mommy?”

_Do you have what it takes to establish your existence in this ruthless universe—?_

Kamui coughed once and pushed himself to his feet, wiping the rain water from his eyes with the back of his wrist. “I won’t...” he started, but a swift motion from the ground caught his eye and he sprung backward, raising his arms at the same time to divert the strike. The kick to his torso grazed his forearms, and he slid to a stop with his feet planted on the wet, jagged ground.

“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he finished with a triumphant smile.

 

The worst thing to have ever happened to Kamui was his little sister learning how to walk, because that meant she could follow him _everywhere_. To the kitchen, when he wanted a steamed bun (he had to give her one, too). To the convenience store, when he wanted the latest issue of Jump (he had to promise he’d read Gintaman to her later). To the bathroom, when he wanted to pee (he slammed the door in her face for this one). To the deserted yard, where he kicked a puppy, just so he could laugh at her if she tried to do the same thing but missed and fell on her butt.

Instead, he got a deafening “That’s mean, Nii-chan! Say sorry to the puppy!”

He met her resentful glare, glanced at the puppy, and kicked it again, unrepentant.

“Hey!” Kagura shouted and lifted her hands to shove Kamui aside, but lost her footing to momentum when he hopped backward. She yelped and landed splat in a puddle.

“Oops,” Kamui murmured, but the smirk on his face indicated the highest level of schadenfreude.

“Be nice to your sister, Kamui,” Umibozu chided as he walked up to his two children, tossing a meter-long plastic tube to Kamui and placing a hand on Kagura’s head when she scrambled to her feet and hugged his leg with a pout.

“What’s this?” Kamui asked, inspecting the tube before popping the lid off.

“A present,” Umibozu replied, watching Kamui pull out the purple umbrella as if he were unsheathing a sword. “You were looking at it the other day, weren’t you? It’s about time you used a proper one, anyway, as opposed to the children’s version.”

“Papi,” Kagura said and tugged at Umibozu’s hand.

“One more thing,” Umibozu continued while Kamui wielded the umbrella with a grin that almost reached his ears. “You won’t be going to any more lessons with Hosen; your mother is talking to him right now.”

Kamui jerked to a stop and stared at his father, eyes wide in alarm. “What?” he said, almost whispering. “But I still have a lot to learn.”

“Nobody can hold your hand forever,” said Umibozu. “He hasn’t been around much lately either, has he? You used to go there every day, but now you’re only going once every few months. He’s busy with other matters, and he’s also running out of things to teach you. You already know more than enough to stand on your own two feet.”

“Papi!” Kagura screamed, jumping up and down and yanking on Umibozu’s shirt.

“What is it, Kagura?” Umibozu hollered back, more playful than impatient.

Kagura pointed to the umbrella in her brother’s hand. “I want that too.”

“Ohh, you want an umbrella too? Don’t you already have a pretty pink one?”

“But that’s not the same. Nii-chan got a new umbrella. I want one too.”

Umibozu crouched down and reached into the grocery bag he was carrying. “I have something better for you,” he said as he pulled out a popsicle, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his top hat, and passed it to Kagura, who let out an indignant cry when Kamui suddenly swiped it from her hands.

“Kagura got an ice lolly. I want one too,” he said and ripped open the plastic wrapper, looking down at his sister from the corner of his eyes.

Kagura scrunched her face, and Umibozu hurriedly said, “Don’t cry, Kagura. Oi, Kamui, you’re a big brother. Give it back to her.”

Kamui opened his mouth but paused before biting into the popsicle, still looking at Kagura’s reddened face and the tears swirling in her eyes. A moment later, he closed his eyes and held the popsicle in front of his sister. “Just kidding. Here you go,” he said, feeling his smile pull at the skin of his cheeks, and tightened his grip on the wooden stick, wishing his hand would stop shaking.

 

“Mami,” Kagura was saying when Kamui tiptoed into the kitchen and peered into the fridge. “Where’s Papi?”

“Papi is busy,” Kirin replied and caught sight of the clay pot in Kamui’s hands. “Put that back, Kamui! That’s for dinner.”

“But I’m hungry,” he said at the same time Kagura exclaimed, “But he’s been gone for three days!”

Before Kirin could respond, the ground jolted and something boomed, as if a nearby building had collapsed under an explosion. The three of them blinked at each other in surprise and glanced around the room. The tremor persisted and grew. Windows clattered. Walls quivered.

“Get down!” Kirin yelled and threw her arms around Kagura as she dived to the floor. “Kamui!” she shouted when something smashed through the wall and hurled itself against the boy from behind.

Chucking the clay pot to the side, Kamui spun around on his heels in time to grab a tentacle twice as thick as his arms. The thrust sent him crashing through the wall, too strong for him to stop, and slammed him into a stone slab outside. Rain drenched his clothes, and blood seeped from his left shoulder where the tentacle had pierced. His gaze trailed upward to a five-story tall squid-like creature. A wry smile appeared on his face.

“I don’t remember reading about you in any mythology,” he muttered and squeezed the tentacle until it ruptured in two, spattering his front and the ground with black fluid. The squid retracted its limb and lashed, as if recoiling in pain, before it turned blood-red and attempted another strike. Kamui bent his knees and raised his arms into a fighting stance, bracing for impact, but a flash of yellow leaped through the air and jammed the tentacle into the ground.

“That’s my son you’re hurting, you bastard alien,” Kirin snarled and slashed through the squid’s limb with her umbrella, staining the yellow with black.

Kamui gaped as he watched his mother land on the balls of her feet and sweep the front of her qipao back in place. Lowering his arms, he glanced back at the house that was splintered in half and spotted his sister huddling in a corner. The sound of rain beating down on the rocky terrain grew loud. He fixed his gaze on his mother again, watching her as she jumped, dodged, and parried.

The squid lost three more tentacles, and its attacks slowed as it struggled to maintain balance, but Kirin paled when its next strike was aimed not at her but the house. Kamui, recognizing the same threat, started running toward Kagura but plunged to the ground when a tentacle swooped over his head—an attack that he saw but his mother didn’t. Kirin had pinned to the ground the tentacle directed at Kagura, but she had no time to react to the one coming from her back, and her daughter screamed when it stabbed Kirin’s stomach.

Kirin glared at the squid, clutching the tentacle protruding from her stomach, and pointed her umbrella backward, only to stagger when Kamui appeared beside her and snapped the tentacle into two with his hands. He broke her grip on the umbrella, grabbed its handle, and bashed the next tentacle into the ground.

Holding his mother’s umbrella felt wrong. Watching his mother lying in a pool of blood felt wrong. Hearing his sister’s wretched cries felt wrong. Where the hell was Umibozu?

He charged forward and rammed the umbrella into another tentacle. Instead of immediately chopping it off, he changed his grip and started running toward the squid while letting the umbrella slice through the creature’s limb horizontally. His muscles burned. Rain blinded his vision. All he could think of was to make that black blood spill and spill.

Yanking out the umbrella, he propelled himself up the squid’s body and leaped into the air. As he landed, he jammed the umbrella into the squid, letting momentum and gravity take care of the rest. The squid toppled and crashed onto the ground, thrashing its remaining two tentacles. Before he could pull out the umbrella again, a shadow swept past him and delivered the final blow to the squid, turning it into a mountain of flesh. Graceless, but terrifyingly powerful.

“Kamui!” Umibozu shouted and rushed toward his son. “Are you alright?”

Before Umibozu could touch him, Kamui jumped away from his spot and landed on the ground with a back flip. His shoulder wound had begun to heal, but his heart pounded against his chest as the exertion of fighting caught up with him. He could hear his breathing, but the rain sounded like it was far away. Kagura’s voice sounded like it was far away. He glanced back at the house, seeing nothing but blur and catching only the words “Mami,” “Kirin,” and “Hosen.”

 

Most of the kitchen and living room had been destroyed, and the bathroom was missing a corner. Kamui hammered a nail into the wooden boards that were acting as a temporary wall. He paused. The constant dripping of water through the cracks sounded like it was going to drill through his skull like a jackhammer. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. In a fit of frustration, he flung the hammer across the room. The tool chipped the wall and hit the floor, clanking as it skidded to a halt.

Umibozu had tried to hire contractors to rebuild the house, but he realized he couldn’t afford trustworthy contractors and doctors for Kirin at the same time. Houses could be fixed later, but a person’s life was time-limited, and he chose his wife. Kirin’s external injuries had healed, but she’d been poisoned. A Yato’s immune system, although exceptionally strong, still required the aid of an antidote to neutralize most poisons. Yet so far, none of the medicine that Kirin had been eating seemed to work. On some days, she would be up and about, chasing Kagura around the house or sweeping rain water out of the kitchen, no different from her usual self. On other days, she would fall into delirium—though the prescription from the latest doctor stabilized Kirin’s condition at the cost of draining her energy.

“Nii-chan,” Kagura said from behind Kamui. “Are you okay? Mami and I heard a loud noise.”

Kamui glanced at the dent in the wall, keeping his back to his sister, and remained silent.

What do you say when you just want to tear down the wall that was doing a crappy job of protecting your home? What do you say when you just want to walk away and pretend nothing ever happened?

What do you say?

“Everything’s fine,” Kamui said quietly.

The timer by the portable stove went off, and he turned around to shut off the flame. Putting on an oven glove, he removed the lid of the clay pot and cringed when the bitter smell of herbal medicine assaulted his nose. Kagura picked up the ceramic bowl on the counter, placing it on a tray, and held it out for her brother to fill. She smiled, wanting to be helpful.

After a brief hesitation, Kamui returned the smile. “Thank you,” he said.

When they set the tray on the bedside table for their mother, however, Kirin twisted her head and looked away with a pained expression. “Enough,” she mumbled. “It’s enough. I’ve had enough.”

Kagura exchanged a glance with Kamui and furrowed her brows. “Mami,” she said, using the same firm but patient tone that Kirin used whenever she scolded her children. “You need to eat your medicine or you won’t get better.”

“I’m never going to get better,” Kirin snapped. “I’ve come to terms with my own mortality, and so should you. All of you. I don’t—” She stopped mid-phrase when she caught sight of Kagura’s frightened expression. She sank into her pillow, her bloodshot eyes speaking only of defeat, and continued in a soft voice, “I don’t want you to be chained here. I don’t want your Papi to leave you in this godforsaken place while he scours the universe for a doctor that doesn’t exist. I want you to fly. The sky is high and beautiful, and I want you to see it. I want you to live.”

“But you will get better,” Kagura insisted in a trembling voice and clutched Kirin’s arm. “You’ll get better, so we can go together. I don’t want to go without you, Mami.”

“Kagura,” Kirin said gently and held her daughter’s cheeks in her palms. “Don’t cry. Everyone will die some day. My day just came sooner than we expected. I’m not a reason for you to stay here. Listen, Mami loves to travel around the universe. The universe is a big place. You can see lots of new things. Since Mami won’t be able to travel anymore, you should go in Mami’s place. So the next time Papi comes back—”

Kagura shook her head, knocking off Kirin’s hands. “No,” she cried. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to go anywhere without Mami. You will get better. We will go together.”

“You’re a beautiful and strong lady, Kagura,” said Kirin. “Beautiful and strong ladies don’t cry over small things like this. Look at your brother. He started out your size, maybe even smaller, and now he’s become so tall and handsome and strong. Strong enough to protect you, to protect me, and maybe even Papi.”

“I...” Kamui started but found that he couldn’t finish his sentence. Whether it was for someone else’s sake or his own, he didn’t know.

“He’s not crying,” Kirin continued. “I’m not crying. Nobody should be crying. Everybody should be smiling. That’s what I want to see in this family. Come on.” Kirin tried a smile. “Come on, Kagura. Give me a smile.”

“I’m... smiling,” Kagura said, choking back her tears. “I’m... happy...”

“Good,” Kirin said with an affirmative smile and looked at her son. “You too, Kamui. Give me a smile.” She waited for a response, but her own smile faltered when Kamui took a step back, turned, and marched out of the room.

 

Kamui glowered at the sodden wood and the water trickling into the kitchen (or what was left of it) and gritted his teeth. The new wall was cheap, and it was useless. With a flying kick, he tore down the wooden boards, sending them—and himself—crashing into the ground and the rain. Maybe what was broken should just stay broken. Trying to fix it was merely clinging onto memories that were already clouded.

Kagura ran out from the bedroom, her eyes still damp with tears. “What was that—what happened to the wall?”

“Kamui, what the hell are you doing?”

Recognizing his father’s voice, Kamui looked up with a bitter smile and rose to his feet. His gaze fell on the black box in Umibozu’s hand. “More medicine?” he asked in a pleasant voice.

Umibozu frowned. “Yes, but what do you think you’re doing, destroying the house? We just fixed it.”

“Papi,” Kagura called out. “You’re back.”

“Stay inside, Kagura. You don’t want to get wet,” Umibozu said as he stepped under the roof and set his umbrella on the floor. He handed the box to his daughter. “Take this; it’s for your mother. I’m going to have a word with your brother first.”

Kagura’s gaze lingered briefly on her father and her brother, as if she wanted to say something, but she turned and trotted toward her parents’ bedroom.

Umibozu redirected his attention to his son. “Come inside, Kamui,” he ordered. “You’ll get sick if you stay in the rain.”

“You’re not able to do anything in the end.”

“What?”

Kamui repeated, “You’re not able to do anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Umibozu said, growing impatient. “I’m trying to find the best doctor for your mother, so in the meantime, you and your sister need to take care of her.”

“You’re not able to change anything.”

“Come inside,” Umibozu snapped and moved toward Kamui.

“You’re already at your limit,” Kamui remarked, backing away from the house when Umibozu tried to grab his arm. “In this city, people either kill themselves or they kill others. Nobody is any different. Not you, not me. Not my sick mother, and not my baby sister.”

“What is wrong with you?” Umibozu yelled.

“But some people can’t decide who they want to kill, so they end up smothering everyone with something called love. That’s ridiculous. Yato doesn’t know love. Yato only knows survival of the strongest. It doesn’t matter who, and you have fallen, so get out of the way. Get out of _my_ way.” He halted his backward footsteps and, seeing red, lunged at Umibozu. Blood splashed as his hand sliced through flesh, and he cursed when he realized he’d severed Umibozu’s arm instead of his neck.

In the split second Kamui took to reorient himself, Umibozu grasped Kamui’s head from behind and slammed it into the concrete pavement with his remaining hand.

Kagura screamed. “Papi! What are you doing? Stop it!”

“Brat,” Umibozu growled. “Come back in a hundred years if you want to take the great Umibozu’s life.”

And the last thing Kamui heard before his vision went black was his sister’s incoherent screams.

 

Quiet voices, almost melodious amidst the familiar patter of rain, drifted into his ears. Kamui cracked open his eyelids and tilted his head toward the sound and the slit of light that were coming from across the hall. Unable to make out what they were saying, he looked away and placed the back of his arm against his forehead, feeling the roughness of the gauze bandage on his skin. The dull headache refused to go away.

A minute passed. Taking in a deep breath, he sat up on his bed and downed the glass of water next to his pillow. Somewhere in the house, his sister squealed and his mother laughed. Kamui felt a lump in his throat and fisted the soft fabric of his blanket.

“What are they...” he murmured and tossed the blanket to the side as he got to his feet. He strode out of his room and stopped in front of the open door to his parents’ room.

Kagura and Kirin looked up from their game of Monopoly.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Kirin said with a warm smile. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Nii-chan, we can start over, so come join us! It’s not as fun with just two people.”

“What are you...” Kamui said in a barely audible voice and found his hand enclosed around the door frame, slowly splintering the wood as too much emotion conflicted inside him. His eyes begun to sting, but out of fury. In a swift motion, he ripped the door out of the wall and hurled it to the floor. Before anyone could react beyond stupor, he turned and ran out of the house.

 

There was never much to see in the sky. On the rare occasion that it wasn’t raining, it would still be cloudy. Likewise, there was never much to see in the city. Steel buildings, narrow streets, people fighting.

But even in a place like this, there had been joy. Kamui remembered holding his parents hands as they lifted him over puddles, pretending he was flying. He remembered playing tag with his sister and making a ruckus in the neighborhood. He remembered. Yet thinking about them now only brought forth a feeling of emptiness, not warmth. Maybe memories that conjured up the wrong emotions were like pens that had run out of ink and should be thrown away.

Kamui made an absentminded turn onto another street, accidentally bumping into a person’s shoulder, and jerked to a halt when the other party seized his collar.

“Hey brat,” the man gnarled. “Watch it.”

Not meeting the other man’s eyes, Kamui counted to two and then muttered, “Get your hands off.”

“What?”

Kamui raised his eyes, feeling his gaze harden. “I said, get your filthy hands off me.”

The man sneered and exchanged a glance with his two companions. Feigning compliance, he slowly loosened his grip, but before the cloth slipped out of his hands, he gave Kamui a shove and pinned the redhead to the wall. “Little kid is talking big, eh? Where’s your mommy?”

The other two men sniggered.

“I’m in a bad mood right now,” Kamui warned in a low voice, but he didn’t wait for a response. His fingers slashed through the man’s arm. Blood sprayed everywhere. As he chucked the detached limb to the side, he pierced the man’s heart with his other arm. Blood was warm. In that instant, Kamui felt as though the weight had been lifted off his chest, and his lips curled into a crooked smile.

He pulled out his arm and wrapped his fingers around the metal pipe behind him, yanking it from the wall. Rusty water spurted from the opening, blending in with the blood and the rain. Switching the pipe from one hand to the other, Kamui pushed the first and now dead man to the ground and sprung upward, impaling the second man’s skull with the pipe.

As Kamui landed hard on the lifeless body, the third man looped his arm around Kamui’s neck but gasped in pain when Kamui rammed his elbow into the man’s abdomen. Kamui twisted his torso, breaking out of the choke, and bashed the man’s nose with his forehead.

The man fell limp, and Kamui dumped him on the ground, pausing to catch his breath.

A green blur swung at him from the front, too fast and too sudden, leaving him only enough time to block the blow with crossed arms. His right arm absorbed the bulk of the impact, and his back cracked against the wall. He drew in a sharp breath and pressed his heels down on the pavement to avoid a clumsy and potentially fatal fall. Two Yato stood in the alley, one brandishing his green umbrella and the other holding a red umbrella over his head.

“Not bad, you little bastard,” the first one said as he stepped up to Kamui and jabbed the tip of his umbrella against Kamui’s forehead. “You’re still standing after taking my hit.”

“Let it go,” the other called out in a bored voice. “We’re not here to beat up children.”

“Well I’m pissed,” the first one retorted, earning a loud sigh from his companion. “Kid ruined my clothes when he busted that pipe.”

Kamui flexed his right hand to relieve the numbness in his arm and hid a grin. These fights were exhilarating, letting him forget whatever it was he wanted to forget, and he wanted more. After inhaling a deep breath, he struck the umbrella away from his head with his left hand. A bang resonated in the air as the umbrella fired a shot into the ground. Kamui grabbed the umbrella in both hands and used it as a pivot to deliver a reverse roundhouse kick. The Yato crashed to the ground, losing his umbrella to Kamui in the process.

Regaining his footing, Kamui shifted his grip on the umbrella and stiffened when he sensed the other Yato right behind him. He spun around. One second he was thrusting the umbrella at the tall Yato, and the next he was lying on the ground while his head hummed. The tip of a folded red umbrella pressed down on his skull like a clamp, and his left arm was crushed under the Yato’s boot.

“You have got to be kidding me,” the tall Yato muttered as blood dripped from the side of his stomach that the green umbrella had partially penetrated. His companion scrambled to his feet, red-faced from anger and embarrassment, but stopped dead in his path when the former shot him a dangerous look.

The tall Yato peered at Kamui. “Hey kid,” he said. “You’re Yato, aren’t you? Let me tell you three things. One, the umbrella is too blunt to be used like a sword. Both your life and mine have been spared because of this, so be grateful. Two, we’re not your enemy and we’re not here to fight you. I apologize for the inconsiderate behavior of my subordinate. And three, you’re one hell of a beast. Judging from the bandage on your head, you were injured before this brawl, but you still took down three thugs and two Yato. If you were a little bit bigger, you would’ve killed us too.” He paused. “I like you. If you ever decide to leave this shitty place, know that you’re always welcome at Harusame. Come to the 7th Squad, and ask for Abuto. That’ll be me.”

Abuto released his foot on Kamui’s arm and stepped away. Grimacing, he pulled out the green umbrella from his abdomen and tossed it to his companion. “Let’s go,” he said as he opened his umbrella and chuckled. “What a bright future we have, goddammit.”

 

Kamui was mildly surprised when he staggered home and found part of his house missing. Then he remembered that it’d been this way for weeks. Or was it only days? Did it even matter? The temporary wooden wall stood in broken patches, not yet repaired, and a shattered bedroom door leaned against it, probably as trash to be picked up.

His feet left water marks on the floor as he made his way to his room, but he wasn’t as silent as he thought he’d be. Before he could slide open the door, Kagura ran out from across the hall.

“Nii...” she started but froze when she saw her brother soaked in water and blood. Her eyes widened in horror, and she took a step back. “Nii-chan,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “You didn’t fight Papi again, did you?”

Kamui’s hand paused on the door handle. “I won’t fight the same person twice,” he replied without turning around. “So don’t worry.”

“Kamui,” his mother said as she appeared from behind Kagura, and Kamui tightened his grip on the handle. She sounded tired, almost as if she were fed up. “Take a shower and change into dry clothes before you get sick. I’ll look at your arms when you’re done.”

“It’s not my blood,” Kamui explained to no one in particular.

The lack of questions was both relieving and unnerving at the same time, but he didn’t dwell on it. A hot shower and a cup of hot chocolate had filled the void that’d arisen after the adrenaline rush from the fight had died down, and it would’ve been heaven if only the atmosphere in the house wasn’t so suffocating. Sipping the cocoa, he sat cross-legged on his bed with his right arm extended for his mother to examine.

“It’s not broken,” Kirin finally said. “Aren’t you glad?” she added dryly and clapped a hand over the bruise. When Kamui winced in response, she managed a smirk, however small and distant.

Kagura, snuggled up against her mother, also flashed a smile. “Nii-chan is afraid of pain, too.”

“I’m not...” Kamui protested. “Why don’t you—” He stopped when he realized Kirin was still holding onto his arm. She’d lowered her head, so he couldn’t see her expression, but droplets of water falling onto his arm told him everything.

“Mami?” Kagura said, peering into Kirin’s face. “Mami, why are you crying? Don’t cry, Mami...”

Kamui watched his mother inhale shuddering breaths in between quiet sobs and shook his arm out of her grasp, perhaps with more force than necessary.

 

Someone pushed open his door, and Kamui jerked awake in the dark. Whether it was night or a particularly stormy day, he didn’t know. Soft footsteps entered his room, and he shifted in his bed, propping himself up on his elbows.

A small figure paused in the middle of the room. “Nii-chan?”

“What is it?”

“Mami isn’t feeling so well,” Kagura said, timid and worried. “She keeps saying your name, and she has a really high fever. I don’t know what to do. I wish Papi would come home already. You know how to make medicine, right, Nii-chan? I think there’s still some—”

Without waiting for Kagura to finish, Kamui jumped to his feet and swept past his sister, heading toward his mother’s room. In the dim light, he could see a damp cloth placed clumsily over Kirin’s forehead as well as the irregular rise and fall of her chest.

“Ka...” Kirin was whispering, her face contorted with pain. “Ka... mui...”

Kamui narrowed his eyes and shot Kagura a distracted look when she showed up on his side.

“What should we do, Nii-chan?” she asked, her wide-eyed gaze filled with uncertainty and fear.

Kamui clenched his jaw. It was natural for her to rely on him. She’d always relied on the three people around her, probably in the same way that he’d relied on the two people around him when he was her age. And he might’ve been okay with that yesterday.

But it wasn’t yesterday. And it never would be again.

“Where are you going, Nii-chan?” Kagura asked in confusion when Kamui walked out of the room. She scurried after him and watched in horror as he threw some clothes together and bundled them into a sack. “You’re leaving,” she breathed in disbelief. “Why?” she exclaimed, chasing after him as he marched out of the room and grabbed his umbrella along the way. “Where are you going? Nii-chan!”

Ignoring his sister, Kamui strung the bag across his torso and opened his umbrella. He could hear rain falling on the pavement. He could hear hurried footsteps splashing through water behind him as he strode down the path leading away from his house. He could hear his sister shouting his name, telling him to go back.

But that was stupid. He would be going back to a house that barely had a roof in a city that was always raining. He would be going back to a family that wanted to choke him to death with—

“Nii-chan!” Kagura shouted. “Mami told me that no matter what happens, she will always love you. She said that even if Papi is angry, he will still love you. So don’t go. Come back!”

Kamui glanced at the stone steps before him and started his descent, knowing that the terminal was located at the end of this road.

“I love you!” Kagura screamed through tears.

Kamui paused on the steps and turned around with a smile. “You’ll only get in the way if you follow me, so go back. I’m pretty sure the instructions on how to prepare medicine are on the kitchen counter. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

_Because you also will have nothing to go back to under this overcast sky._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics at the beginning are from "Seventh Heaven" by Kalafina. Planet Ursa Minor Beta is from _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_. The Yato legends are inspired by the Chinese legend of the ten suns.


End file.
